


Another Word for Longing

by surlybobbies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mention of boners, and ridiculously in love, canon-divergent, cas being grumpy, dean being worried, longing retcon, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 17:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4446014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surlybobbies/pseuds/surlybobbies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is wearing his PJs.  Which means that Cas sleeps in his PJs.  And that Cas is about to drink coffee in his PJs.  </p><p>Dean’s hand curls into a fist at his side.  He can just imagine the drag of soft cotton underneath his fingers, and the solid angles of Cas’s hipbones just underneath that.  Just a few steps, and Dean could reach out and…</p><p>That train of thought stops abruptly when Cas opens his eyes and sends a sharp look toward Dean from underneath furrowed brows.</p><p>(In which Dean can't figure out why Cas is being a grump.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Word for Longing

**Author's Note:**

> Wasn't planning on posting anything for a while, then this took over my brain. The wonders of obsession.

Dean walks in on Cas one morning as he sways on his feet in the kitchen, waiting for his coffee to brew. It’s 11am, but the dude’s still in PJs. Dean realizes with a funny, distinctly unmasculine flip in his stomach that it’s the same pair he’s spent the last week looking for. 

Cas is wearing his PJs. Which means that Cas sleeps in his PJs. And that Cas is about to drink coffee in his PJs. 

Dean’s hand curls into a fist at his side. He can just imagine the drag of soft cotton underneath his fingers, and the solid angles of Cas’s hipbones just underneath that. Just a few steps, and Dean could reach out and…

That train of thought stops abruptly when Cas opens his eyes and sends a sharp look toward Dean from underneath furrowed brows

Dean freezes. After a moment, Cas’s expression slackens. He turns his blue eyes to the coffee maker, which has just finished hissing and spitting. He grasps the carafe by its handle. “Coffee?” he offers.

 

It happens again that night, when Dean passes by the bathroom closest to Cas’s bedroom. The door is slightly open, enough so that Dean can see Cas in front of the sink, brushing his teeth. Cas brushes his teeth like a particularly conscientious five-year-old who's just learned how to brush his teeth on his own. He bares his teeth and scrapes methodically up and down, in circles, behind and in between. 

Dean lingers just beyond the door, making sure to stay hidden, and listens to the rhythmic brushing. In the back of his mind, he knows he’s being a bit of a creep, but sue him - it’s nice being reminded that Cas is here, home, sleeping and eating and living with Sam and Dean. That he’s close, just one door down, and that Dean can smile at him and talk to him everyday and that perhaps one day, Dean can maybe finally say -

“Do you need the sink, Dean?” It’s amazing how Cas’s voice can still sound so dry when his mouth is full of foam. It’s also amazing how, despite not moving from his place in front of the sink, he knew Dean was outside.

Dean clears his throat. “N-nope! Uh, have at it, dude. Take your time.” He shuts himself in his room and doesn’t come out again that night.

 

Dean is going nuts. They’re doing research, which is already enough to drive him up the wall, but Cas is antsy and sending him glares across the table for no conceivable reason. Dean tries to ignore it - has been trying to be better at withholding his temper - but Cas’s perpetual gaze makes him itch. 

“Quit it,” he snaps to Cas, then turns back to Sam, who’s briefing them. Except now Sam is glaring at him too for being mean to his fellow nerd. This is fucking ridiculous. He rolls his eyes. “You were saying, princess? Something about a dangerous coven of vampires that really should be our priority right now?”

Sam purses his lips before continuing. “Only a few victims so far, but each killing has happened no more than two days apart. We should leave as soon as we can.” His frown deepens, but now it’s one of concern. “Judging by the frequency, the coven’s a large one. It’s gonna be rough.”

And yeah, Dean’s irritated with Cas, but he can’t smother the rush of worry he feels; this is going to be Cas’s first major hunt since he sacrificed his grace. What if he gets hurt? He won’t have his angelic mojo to tap into and heal his injuries. What if he - what if he’s turned? Or dies? 

Dean has to say something - something like Don’t go or Stay by me or I love you. He turns to where Cas is sitting, forcing down the swoop of anxiety in his stomach, but before he can say anything, Cas stands up and leaves the room so fast that the chair he vacates scrapes against the bunker’s tiled floor. 

 

They all survive. Cas was irritable throughout the whole hunt, barely speaking to Sam and not at all to Dean, and so Dean is relieved that the former angel sleeps the whole ride back to the bunker. 

When they arrive, Cas slams the car door and marches off into the bunker and presumably into his room. Dean watches all of this in muted frustration, but doesn’t follow. Cas is alive and well. He’ll take it. 

He gets ready for bed, then climbs under his blankets. Sleep doesn’t come; he keeps thinking of Cas, alone in his bed one door over - angry at Sam and angry at Dean and angry at goodness-knows-what-else and unwilling to share why. It makes Dean ache for him, makes Dean wish that Cas were here in Dean’s room, in his bed, so that Dean could - so that he could - if Cas wanted -

Dean is trying to rid himself of the image of himself pressing supplications with his lips into Cas’s collarbones when his door opens with such force that it bounces off the wall. Deans sits up, alert, his hand around the handle of his gun, but his head one door over with Cas, hoping he’s safe.

But the panic fluttering high in Dean’s throat is for nothing - Cas stands framed in Dean’s doorway. “Cas,” he breathes, putting his gun back on his bedside table. “Maybe knock next time so I don’t accidentally fucking _shoot_ you?” 

Cas just stands there, his eyes wide. “Dean,” he says, stumbling forward and landing heavily onto Dean’s bed. “You have to - you have to make it stop. You have to stop it.”

The panic is back all at once. He grasps Cas by the shoulders. “Whoa, whoa, Cas, I have to stop what? What’s wrong?”

His mind doesn’t even have time to cycle through half a dozen things that could be afflicting Cas before the man himself is surging forward, his hands grabbing at Dean’s waist and his lips suddenly hot and open on Dean’s.

Dean’s cry of surprise is muffled against the movement of Cas’s lips and quickly silenced by the fingers working their way under his shirt. It’s when Cas’s thumb brushes his nipple that Dean’s brain is shocked into coming back online. He presses a hand against Cas’s sternum and shuffles back as far as he can. 

“Cas,” he says, panting. “I don’t understand.”

Cas’s eyes are shining with something indecipherable. He stares into Dean’s eyes, pushing back against the hand holding him back. “You want me.”

Dean swallows. “I - yeah, I think that’s obvious.”

“I can feel it.”

A flush rises up above Dean’s collar. He fidgets. “It’s called a boner, Cas.”

But Cas shakes his head. He lifts a hand to touch a few fingers to Dean’s cheek. The hand shakes slightly. “No. I can feel your longing.” He closes his eyes. “I was so tired of pretending I couldn’t.”

“Wait - what? You can feel - is that why you’ve been so weird?” 

Cas nods, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry.”

Dean takes a breath. “Cas, how is that even possible? I mean. Sorry, dude, but you’re not an angel anymore.”

“You forget that I remade you, Dean,” Cas says, his hand coming back to rest on Dean’s knee. “I expect I’ll always have this ability, at least in relation to you.” His eyes drop. “I’m sorry for not telling you. I thought you would think it was an invasion of privacy. I would have kept it to myself, but… your longing is… very strong.” And despite the guilt that is obvious in his body language, Cas’s voice holds a distinct note of delight. 

So yeah, Dean’s a little pissed but he also wants to fucking dance.

He drops the hand against Cas’s chest to take the hand on his knee. “Hey, listen to me. Shit like this? You tell me. You drove me fucking crazy, Cas.” He tugs the man closer to him, and Cas goes, a smile growing on his face to replace the restless anxiety. “And then you tell me we could have been making out for weeks now? Almost unforgivable.”

Cas’s hands resume their activities underneath Dean’s shirt. “I didn’t think of it like that,” he concedes, pushing Dean backwards until he’s flat on his back. “I’ll have you know, however, that it wasn’t easy for me, either, feeling your… desperation… for me, and being unable to do anything about it.”

Dean snorts, pushing a hand through Cas’s hair. “Desperation, my ass.”

Cas presses a kiss to Dean’s lips, warm and wet. “Is there another word you’d like to use?”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes in between kisses, holding Cas’s face close to his own so that Cas doesn’t see his suspiciously shiny eyes. “Love.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know anything about the vampire canon, and was too lazy to research it. Sorry. :)


End file.
